


"You made us a family."

by MultiFandomAngst



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst, Derek is in a magical coma, M/M, Mind Melding, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Stiles is an unlucky human, description of corpse, mention of sexual relationship involving a minor, mentions of past thoughts of suicide, rating might go up as story goes on, vague refferece to Hale family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-01
Updated: 2015-02-08
Packaged: 2018-02-11 06:56:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,990
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2058297
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MultiFandomAngst/pseuds/MultiFandomAngst
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek goes missing.<br/>Derek returns.<br/>Derek is stuck in his head and only Stiles can save him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is going to be mutilchaptered, but I cannot guarantee when I can write, so bear with me.  
> Another idea I thought up a long time ago and just now started to write.   
> Unbeta'd all mistakes are mine.

Derek has been missing for almost a month. Three weeks, five days, and fifteen hours exactly since Boyd said he had last seen him.   
Now Stiles knew the alpha was prone to emo solidarity every now and again, but usually it was only a few days in the woods, and he would always tell one of the pack. This was not fitting in to Derek's otherwise predictable behavior.   
Honestly, things had been going close to okay before he disappeared. There was nothing actively trying to kill anyone in Beacon Hills, or take over the territory. Scott was slowly getting comfortable with Derek's pack, could even manage almost half a day in the guys presence without either of them blowing up, which Stiles totally counted as a win. Jackson was still snaky, but not killing anyone as he was bonded to Derek. Lydia was handling being a Banshee with amazing grace, Allison was past her killing phase, and Erica and Boyd returned to Derek's pack. They were all pretty much functional.  
But then, poof. No Derek.  
A mass text had been sent out to everyone, 'HAVE YOU SEEN DEREK?' in all caps. Stiles was making himself a sandwich at the time, and immediately checked his bedroom with the mayo coated butter knife still in his hand, finding no brooding werewolf ready to slam him into things. After getting continuous negative replies, they all decided to meet up at the Hale house, where they hammered out a timeline, and offered ideas of where he could be. They decided to give Derek a few days to contact them, maybe he just really wanted some time alone and had forgotten to say anything. (Or he could have been kidnapped by something that goes bump in the night, yet after a quick call to Deaton and learning nothing new was in the area, they pushed that thought aside.) After three days the werewolves went into the woods, returning hours later after reaching dead end after dead end.   
At five days Issac was nearly in hysterics, reverting back to flinching when someone came near, face even more pale and sickly. The loss of his alpha was obviously effecting him negatively. Boyd, Erica, and Jackson carried it better, but quickly became withdrawn, going to soak up Derek's scent at his new place whenever possible. Even Lydia seemed affected, and they weren't even sure if Banshees could feel the bond of a pack.  
Stiles understood, he really did, they were depressed. Lonely, rejected and betrayed, and he couldn't help but feel a little angry at Derek, who had essentially abandoned his puppies.   
After two weeks Scott gave up trying to think of reasons why Derek wasn't back. Stiles took to making sure they were all at least eating, often going over to Derek's place to cook meals.   
By the third week he was going over to Deaton's daily to ask if there was any word on Derek, despairing at how Issac had lost so much weight, Jackson wouldn't even try to insult him, and Scott was failing even on the lacrosse field.   
So when he got a text at two in the morning from Erica, simply reading, 'Derek's at Deaton's,' Stiles felt like heaven had opened up and was shining holy light down. While rushing to get dressed, he compiled a list of things he was going to yell at the alpha, starting with where the fuck were you.  
Stiles refrained from speeding to the vet clinic, with his dad was working tonight it would be catastrophic to be found out on a school night. Pulling his jeep up behind Jackson's Porsche, Stiles quickly turned it off and ran inside, going straight past the the front desk to the back.   
He had envisioned a grouchy alpha pacing around the office, maybe bloody, slowly healing from being captured. Possibly participating in a puppy pile that he always denied they did, but in all honesty totally do.  
Stiles definitely was not expecting to see Derek laid out on the vet table looking, . . . asleep. Whole, breathing, fully dressed, and asleep. His jacket didn't even looked ruffled. Deaton was standing at his head, opening his eyes and shining a light into them. The pack was crowded around, touching their alpha wherever they could as to reassure themselves he was actually there. Hell, even Scott and Allison were pressed up close.   
"What's wrong with him?" Stiles demanded.   
Scott's head snapped up to look at him like he hadn't heard Stiles enter, "He won't wake up," it was so quiet Stiles almost didn't catch what he said.   
"Has anyone tried hitting him?"   
Erica growled lightly the same time Deaton looked at him with a raised eyebrow.   
"What? Its worked for me."   
"We could try it," Deaton sighed, putting down his flashlight and rubbing a hand over his eyes, "He seems perfectly healthy, just in what appears to be a coma."   
"Like Peter was?" Issac whispered, sounding broken.  
The question went unanswered, instead Boyd motioned for the pack to step away from the table, only to be stopped by Deaton with a hand on his arm, "Perhaps someone who could not accidentally break his neck."   
Eight heads turned toward Stiles, "Hey, I'm not the only human here!" he exclaimed.   
"You said it works for you, so you do it," Jackson commanded. Now if Stiles wasn't so damn thankful that Jackson was at least acting like an ass again, he would totally be denying the claim. By the way Lydia was looking at her nails, she wasn't about to hit the guy. Allison could probably do it better than him, Stiles wanted to point out, but considering she was deathly pale, he dropped it.  
So Stiles walked to the head of the table and saw an immediate problem: he couldn't reach to properly hit with all his human might. Putting both his knees uncomfortably on the edge of the table, Stiles hauled himself up, balancing painfully. Like hell he was gonna straddle the alpha with everyone in the room staring, or at all anyway regardless of who was looking. Who had even mentioned that?  
"Here we go, don't bite me, okay?" Stiles murmured more to himself than anyone. If he maybe tapped into his anger about the dude being missing for so damn long to fuel the punch, then that was Stiles' business.   
Derek's head snapped to the right with the blow, probably the only thing keeping Stiles from breaking his knuckles on the cheekbones.   
"Fuck!" Stiles cried, not only at the pain in his hand, but the fact that Derek didn't so much as twitch. Hopping down from the table and holding his throbbing hand against his chest, Stiles shook his head, "Sorry."   
"Wait!" Lydia cried, coming up and yanking Derek's under shirt up to his chin from where it had been pulled down, "What's this?"   
Directly over Derek's heart was a circle that held multiple other small symbols, most unknown to Stiles yet he could vaguely make out a wolf, the moon, and what looked like fire. They were glowing bright blue, occasionally shining. Deaton's eyes widened as he saw it, then went and pulled a book from his shelf and flipped through it rapidly.   
"What is it?" Issac demanded, but was hushed by Deaton who was now reading. After five tense minutes of silence, Boyd shifting from foot to foot, Erica grabbing onto his hand and looking like not even death could remove her, and Jackson looking uncomfortable as shit, Deaton came forward and began comparing the symbols of Derek's to the book's. From behind him, Stiles stared at the book written in Archaic Latin, kicking himself for not studying it enough to read the page.   
Deaton finally signed, stepping away and rubbing his eyes with his hands, "Its a curse."   
No one spoke.   
"A binding curse," Deaton continued, "that can be used against each and every supernatural force imaginable, given the right amount of time and symbols. It can bind someone to a tree, to the perimeter of a building, . . . or to your own mind." He pointed to a few glowing symbols, "Werewolf, alpha, power, death, suffering, fire. Just to name a few. It was created by the Fae, and hasn't been used in hundreds of years. This spell has trapped Derek inside his head."   
"Can we get him out?" Lydia demanded immediately, apparently unfazed by super old, powerful Fae magic.   
Everyone stared at Deaton, even Issac unclenched his hands from Derek's jacket to see the vet better.   
"Its . . . a delicate maneuver. This magic doesn't just effect the outside elements, its inside of him. It has to have a . . . stabilizer of some sort, an anchor, to continue working. To undo curse like this, someone would have to enter Derek's mind, find the anchor, and destroy it."   
Go mind surfing in the alpha's head? No thanks.   
"What happens if we can't . . . do that?" Scott asked hesitantly.  
"He'll remain asleep."   
"Can you do it?" Erica asked, "Safely?"   
Deaton glanced down at the book again, "Given some time, about a week, I should have the proper supplies to do it safely. The only thing is, I can't be the one to go under."  
"What the hell does that mean?" Jackson asked confused.  
"I have to stay here and make sure the reversal spell doesn't collapse on itself. Someone else has to go in."  
"I can do it," Scott immediately said, "I'll go get Derek and--"  
"I hardly think your qualified for something like this--" Lydia began.  
"Oh and you are?" Eric's growled, interrupting her.  
"Watch it--"  
"I mean, I know Derek and I don't get along but--" Scott continued.  
"What the hell--"  
"I don't think any of you--"  
"Whoa, whoa!" Stiles shouted over the arguing, effectively stopping the noise but not the glares, "This isn't helping at all. Stop getting your panties in a bunch, we can't even do anything tonight. Okay? We can decide who later."  
"Actually," Deaton said, eyes still on the book, "Its narrowed down to two possible people."  
"What?"   
Looking up Deaton stared Stiles dead in the eye, "No one of the supernatural variety can do this because it would subconsciously put Derek on the defense and offset the spell. It would have to be someone human. And who he trusts."   
No. Fucking. Way.   
Allison looked faintly green all of a sudden and Stiles really hoped he was holding the sudden pressure better.   
"He doesn't trust me," Allison shook her head frantically, "not really. Especially not for something like this."   
Then everyone was staring at Stiles again. Of course, cause this was his goddamn life.   
Stiles sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, "I have not had enough sleep for this."  
"You have to do it," Erica told him, practically ordered, "You have to bring him back."  
"But why me?" Stiles whined.  
"Because Derek trusts you and you guys always save each others lives," Scott supplied, not looking as concerned as Stiles would like him to be.  
"To go into his mind? He'll probably eat me!"  
"You'll be fine," Lydia stated.  
Deaton interrupted Stiles' squawk of outrage, "As you said before, we have time, a week at least. You should be prepared enough by then. So I recommend everyone going home and getting some sleep."  
The pack (even Scott) was hesitant to leave, but after another sniff of their alpha, they all piled in their respective vehicles and drove away. Stiles shrugged off Scotts offer to ride home with him, knowing he really wanted to leave with Allison, instead claiming to need time to sort through the shit storm that is now his head. Scott at least had the decency to look grateful.  
Stiles grumbled the entire way home, taking care not to draw any attention to himself. Of course he had to be the one human who could actually go mind jumping, and what the hell did 'prepared enough' mean? Would he have to take lessons, learn to chant something? Stiles drew the line at being naked, (although he would probably rock a ceremonial dress) a guy can only do so much for a not-so-fellow bro. And how the hell was said alpha going to react to a guy he barely tolerated stomping through his mind?  
Stiles trudged to bed slowly, hoping that in the morning everything would all have just been a dream.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long, hope you all like it!

It didn't turn out to be a dream. No, an entire week passed much faster than Stiles was comfortable with, and suddenly, it was Saturday. Or 'Day I enter Derek's mind and try not to die' day as Stiles started calling it.   
Deaton had been coaching him all week, not as much spell learning or chanting as Stiles had originally thought, but more on having faith in himself, that he could do this, and not be stuck also.   
Which was a possibility, had he mentioned that? Yeah, if Stiles does anything wrong, he can be trapped in Derek's mind with him too, until they both waste away. And lots of things can go wrong; he could accidentally destroy the wrong thing, damage some of Derek's memories, become caught up in his nightmares, or worst of all, fail to save the alpha. Cause this is a one time thing, no take backs. If Stiles manages to emerge, without Derek, he can never go in again, the chance will be lost. So yeah, pressure.   
The only thing that's kept Stiles from just saying 'fuck it' and resigning himself to a life without the alpha, was the pack. Even with their alpha found, they seemed to get no better, Issac possibly worse. The boy skipped school twice just to sit with Derek for hours, a haunted look on his face. Erica had become practically unreasonable, her moods reaching points to where even Boyd couldn't calm her down. Hell, Lydia herself made a mistake on one of her math problems. So Stiles was doing this. Despite the potential harm to himself.  
The sheriff had been informed that Stiles was staying at the McCall house to help Scott cram for the upcoming chemistry test, so he was safe. Any and all text messages he got were deferred straight to Scott to answer.   
Now the only thing that was left was to commence the mushing of minds. No one with supernatural powers was allowed anywhere near the clinic while the spell took place, they couldn't take the chance, so Stiles would be facing this alone. Well, Deaton would be there but aside from that. Alone.  
That morning Stiles had been given some form of bodily contact from everyone, Jackson pushed him and told him not to fuck up, Boyd fist bumped him, the girls each kissed him on the cheek (Stiles swears he felt Erica's tongue), and Issac freaken hugged him.   
Scott and Allison were the only ones to tell him to be careful, to return safe. Sometimes Stiles thought everyone else only kept him around because he could do things as a human that they couldn't.   
On the way to Deaton's Stiles treated himself to two orders of curly fries, already freshly showered to get the pack smell off him and dressed in one of Derek's well used shirts.  
After taking off his shoes, Stiles entered Deaton's office and found Derek lying on the floor, chalk circles drawn intricately on the ground around him. Deaton himself was lighting candles at the North, South, East, and West points of the room, muttering something quietly.   
"Are you ready?" he asked softly after lighting the last candle.  
Stiles nodded jerkily, "Yeah, let's do this."  
Deaton looked at him with a raised brow, "There must be no doubt inside of you. You must believe that you can do this."  
"Of course I know I can do this, I'm gonna go into the alpha werewolves mind and be a total badass and save him and when he wakes up he's gonna be all 'Stiles! I never should have ever doubted you. You should be in charge, you handle it so much better than everyone!'" Stiles babbled, then forced himself to take a deep breath and looked down at his bare feet, "Its not doubt. I'm just nervous."  
Deaton nodded in understanding, "Take some deep breaths. Having a panic attack would be detrimental to this whole thing."   
He stepped closer until he was face to face with Stiles, "There's something you need to understand. We cannot predict at all what he is like in there. The place that you're going is what Derek thinks of himself, of who he is.  
Considering his past, it won't be pretty. You cannot take this in humor."  
"Trust me, I understand how supremely important it is," Stiles said solemnly, eyeing Derek's unconscious body.   
Deaton huffed through his nose, stepping away and gathering his book, "Lay down next to him," he instructed, "you must have skin contact."   
"Do I lay on the lines?" Following Deaton's nod, Stiles carefully lowered himself beside the alpha and after a second of hesitation, grabbed onto his hand and twined their fingers together. Only so they didn't lose contact if anything happened, Stiles reasoned, ignoring the fact that their hands fit together perfectly. And the fact that when he squeezed, there was no reciprocation.  
"Remember that nothing is real," Deaton repeated for the thousandth time that week, "Don't lose yourself. You just need to find Derek and destroy the anchor for the spell."   
Stiles nodded again, laying his head down gently on the cold floor, and closing his eyes. After taking three deep breaths, "Go ahead."  
Deaton began walking around them chanting in Latin, and Stiles didn't bother trying to follow. He suddenly felt drowsy, like he had just spent the last 24 hours running for his life and he was now able to sleep.   
There was no sleep paralysis or fear that Deaton had warned him about, and Stiles didn't want to move anyway. It was warm, he was relaxed, and sleepy. The last conscious thought Stiles had was wondering if this was what dying felt like.

 

When Stiles opened his eyes, he was standing in darkness. Not the gray-black darkness of your room at night until your eyes adjust, it was pitch black. Like, black hole, absorbing all light kinda black. Stiles made sure his eyes were actually open, then rubbed them as if that would brighten the situation. Nope. He couldn't even see his fingers right in front of his face.   
Stiles turned slowly, looking for any source of light, but everything was the same.   
There was something oddly familiar about this situation, Stiles knew, but for the life of him couldn't put his finger on it. The silence around him seemed almost, oppressive. Like it was daring him to make a sound. So naturally, he did.   
"Derek?" There was no echo, the sound of his voice died two feet from him.   
"Derek!" Stiles shouted, blindly walking forward, "Come on, come out, come out, wherever you are! This is not time to play hide-and-stalk, Derek."   
Stiles knew he was walking aimlessly, probably getting turned around a lot but since there were no distinguishing surroundings, there was no way to tell. After his throat began to hurt and his feet throb, Stiles sighed, sitting down to rub his bare feet. Even though he knew he shouldn't, Stiles wondered if the spell went wrong. Maybe this wasn't Derek's head at all, just some space in between two universes that Stiles is now forever doomed to inhabit.   
And wouldn't that just be great? Go and try to save the grumpy alpha and get stuck in a black hole. Great metaphor for his entire life really. And now no one would ever see the two of them again. No brooding werewolf to sneak around in the shadows, his room forever safe from him getting slammed into anything, no glaring, no angry eyes.  
"I am such a fucking moron." Stiles said suddenly, smacking himself on the forehead. No wonder the darkness felt so fucking familiar. He just hadn't been subjected to it in a while. This was literally Derek's number one wall between himself and others. Dark, mysterious, terrifying, silent, and judgmental were all ways Stiles had described Derek when they first met. And while that wasn't who Derek really was, it was one of the walls he had built in order to protect himself. So it would make sense that they would exist in his mind too.   
"Damn, dude, you had me scared there for a minute," Stiles sighed, trying to remember how exactly he got past Derek's wall of silence in the real world. It wasn't necessarily a conscious effort, more born of the need to work together so they all didn't die.   
"Leave it to you to have a wall of darkness in your mind, keeping all your secrets tucked away. We should call this your brooding zone, where you go and hide when you don't want to talk to any of us. Which is rude by the way. You need more social interaction." Stiles babbled, before suddenly remembering that Deaton had said Derek might not remember any one due to the curse. "Uh, I'm Stiles by the way, in case you don't remember. Human! Strictly human, uh, not wanting to change that at all. Kinda part of your pack in Beacon Hills? Depending on Scott, really. Who I think is really ready to make it official, judging by the way he frets over you now. How do you even do the joining pack thing? Is there somewhere to sign, a contract? Or do you guys just do the eye flashing thing at one another? Will the color of his eyes change from the yellow? Cause no body else's has when they've joined you. There should really be a book on this, a handy dandy notebook on werewolf procedure. Tell you what, you talk and I'll write. Call it; Sourwolf's guide to being an alpha. We'll become millionaires."   
Just as Stiles was taking a breath to begin his prediction of all the things Derek would buy, the room got lighter. Brighter and brighter until Stiles had to cover his eyes while they adjusted. The sounds around him were deafening, the roaring of flames, the cracking and breaking of the building, and multiple screams coming from inside the fire.   
Stiles' eyes widened as he realized what was happening in front of him, this was the Hale fire.   
To the right was an adult Derek, and a woman that must be Laura, screaming and scratching at an invisible line in the ground, unable to cross. They were wolfed out and screaming hysterically, tears running from their faces as they stared into the fire.   
"No! Please! I'm sorry, so sorry! Don't do this, please let them live, its my fault!" Derek was sobbing.   
Laura suddenly screamed, high pitched and ending in a sob as she pulled her hands from her face, revealing alpha red eyes. The smell of burning flesh made Stiles gag, the smoke drilling into his nostrils and making his head spin.   
Stiles wanted to run, run away, run into the house, break the wolfsbane line, save the people he could hear burning to death. But he knew he shouldn't. This wasn't really happening, it was only a memory.   
Before Stiles could steel himself to the task of trying to get Derek's attention, Peter came flying out an upstairs window. He landed on the ground with a sick crunch, clothing on fire and mouth open in an endless scream. He was three feet from the line, so Derek and Laura couldn't reach him to out out the fire, resorting to kicking dust and dirt on the flames until a fire truck showed up and put out the rest.   
Laura was shouting at the firefighters, saying there were more people inside, refusing to go get medial treatment.   
Derek had fallen to his knees. Stiles wanted to vomit at the look of loss on his face, the sheer brokenness of the man before him.   
"Derek," Stiles said softly, unknowing of what words he could possibly say to stop this moment.   
Then things changed again.   
Stiles found he was still in the woods, everything quiet except for the faint chirping of birds in the distance. Taking a deep breath to get the smoke out of his nose, and the sickening images away, Stiles focused on the area before him.   
The first light of day was creeping over her body, making her blood shine red, revealing her lifeless expression. Laura Hale's top half of body was laying before Derek. Who was on his knees staring down at her with an expression that rivaled his last broken one.   
Derek's blue eyes shone as he stared down at the broken bits that were his sister. Stiles had known she died in her fight against Peter, then was cut in half by hunters. Stiles himself had dug up the very half before him. There wasn't this much blood. He felt kind of stupid for only now realizing it, Derek had cleaned her before he buried her.   
Derek pulled her into his arms, cradling her head in his hands, and wept. Broken sobs that hardly lasted a breath before another started, tapering off into a long drawn out howl.   
Stiles couldn't help the burning in his eyes, reaching up to scrub the feeling away and take a hitching breath. When he looked again, it was dark.   
They were standing before the burnt out Hale house, burnt flesh and blood in the air. For a second Stiles thought it was the memory of the fire happening again, before he saw Derek standing over Peter's body.   
Peter, who had just slit Kate's throat and been Molotov cocktailed. Who was as burnt and broken as the house behind him.   
Stiles knew he was standing around somewhere, actual dream him, but didn't bother looking around. His eyes were focused on Derek kneeling beside Peter, leaning down to hear the words Stiles always had too poor of hearing to catch.   
"Talia would've been proud."   
There was no hesitation as Derek slit his throat. A great feeling of power ripped through Stiles at the same moment, like he had been gutted and shot in the heart simultaneously.   
Like he had been made king and sentenced to death in the same breath. Which was probably the closest he was ever going to be able to explain it. This was the power of alpha running through Derek and by extension, him. Stiles wasn't sure how Derek felt personally, but it made Stiles want to vomit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and kudos are welcome!  
> Tell me what you think, please. Even if its just 'eh.' That's cool.  
> (Can someone please tell me how to indent and such? No matter what I do it never shows up!)


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry its been so long. Quite honestly I'd forgotten about this all together.
> 
> Trigger warning for a mention of an underage relationship I'll put it in the tags too  
> Check end notes for details
> 
> Maybe two more chapters? Probably

"Derek, come on. You've gotta listen to me," Stiles begged as Derek watched his family burn before him for the thousandth time, "None of this is real, you aren't stuck here!"  
It was no use, of course. Stiles had tried everything he could imagine, yelling, even trying to hit Derek, but nothing worked. They were still stuck in this intimate loop of horror, people dying over and over again. Stiles had no idea what to do and was desperately trying not to give up, but being unable to break the loop, he was becoming more and more discouraged.  
Fire, Laura, Peter, pain. Over and over again.  
"Did you forget me? All of us? Can't you remember? We're your pack. You have people waiting for you out there, people counting on you to wake up."  
Laura.  
"Issac, you saved him. His father was beating the shit out of him and no one cared, no one did anything. Except you, you helped him."  
Peter.  
"Erica, you gave her a second chance at life. And Boyd, you gave him purpose."  
Pain.  
"You probably saved Jackson from going off the deep end, god knows what kind of shit he would have gotten into had you not bit him."  
Fire.  
"And Scott, he looks up to you. He might not agree with everything you do, but he doesn't want you to be hurt."  
Laura.  
"Everyone is waiting for you. Come on, what am I supposed to do with a pack of heartbroken puppies? You staying here would kill them."  
Peter.  
"You can't just leave me! I can't do this by myself! At least together we could fake it that we even have a clue to what we're doing," he continued desperately, "And I know that you've been trying your best, and its getting better, honestly. But you can't just dump them on me when I only have partial court appointed custody! I'm sorry about your family, but now you have another one to take care of!" Stiles ended shouting.  
Silence.  
For a moment Stiles rejoiced in the silence, knowing the torture would begin any second. This was the moment the power of Alpha would come tearing through them both, leaving ash in its path. But there was nothing. Stiles' eyes found Derek, who was standing uncertainly, looking majority confused.  
"Derek?" Stiles asked breathlessly, coming to stand right in front of him.  
He blinked multiple times, as if not quite sure what he was seeing. "Wh-who- Stiles?"  
Stiles immediately smiled in relief, "Yes, man, its me. Thank god."  
"Whats--" Derek began, looking around dazedly and settling on his burning house.  
"No! No, Derek, you gotta look at me!" Stiles shouted, putting himself directly in Derek's line of sight, "You can't get sucked in again. Focus on me. You know who I am, right?"  
Derek actually had the audacity to look irritated at the question, "Yes."  
"Dude, you're under a curse. Stuck in your head. This isn't real or anything. Deaton sent me in here to save you."  
"This is my fault," Derek stated, eyes now focused on his sisters body.  
"No, no. Its not. Come on, you have to help me save you."  
"It is. They're all dead because of me."  
Suddenly the landscape changed again, now the lacrosse field. Teenagers were scattered around, dressed to some degree for practice. Standing in front of them was a younger looking Coach Finstock, introducing a woman that made Stiles' stomach roll.  
Kate Argent looked harmless, a simple coaching assistant with confidence at what her physique was doing the the boys in front of her. It wasn't difficult for Stiles to identify young!Derek in the crowd, a blush on his cheeks as he was the only one Kate was staring back at. Things shifted quickly after that; them talking, Derek staying behind as the others left, light touches, their first kiss. Her making him promise to not tell anyone.  
Stiles felt bile rising in his throat and forced himself to look away as Derek and Kate crawled into her large SUV with tinted windows. He could feel the echoes of Derek's emotions at the time, the arousal, excitement, pleasure.  
"That wasn't your fault, she manipulated you. Took advantage." Stiles could hardly spit out, hands clenched tightly into fists.  
Real Derek didn't say anything, only watched as younger him took Kate into his empty house. Stiles was torn between wanting to empty his gut or let the tears burning his eyes fall down his face. He turned away from the scenery, and locked eyes with Derek, "You didn't light the match. You didn't pour the gasoline. Its not your fault, Derek," Stiles pleaded with him to understand, "She would have gotten to them one way or another. You were a child. She is the monster here! Not you."  
Suddenly they were in a place Stiles had never seen before, a small cramped apartment. Outside was the noise of a busy city, New York, Stiles assumed. Sitting on a ratty couch was another Derek holding a laptop and showing a whole Laura something on the screen.  
"I'm telling you Laur, something is there and left us a message."  
"But why? Aside from Peter we have no ties there anymore," she argued.  
"I think it needs to be looked into at the very least."  
"It could just be some kids, Der. But okay, fine." She conceded, waving her hand, "I'll go pop back there and see if anything is amiss."  
"What do you mean you?" Derek demanded.  
"You need to stay and make sure the landlord doesn't sell his crappy place while we're gone. It'll be fine, little bro," she smiled, "I'll call you if I find anything."  
In the blink of an eye she was on the forest floor.  
The real Derek stood and watched himself cradle her and howl.  
"I'm like fire," he croaked, turning his broken gaze to Stiles, "I destroy everything I touch. Everyone gets hurt."  
Before Stiles would say anything they were now in the abandoned train station, Issac, Erica, and Boyd growling and screaming to be released from there chain, completely wolfed out.  
Scott, being attacked by Peter.  
Lydia, bloody on the Lacrosse field.  
Issac, running from hunters.  
Stiles, returning from Gerard's.  
Erica and Boyd, found after months of being missing.  
Scott, being attacked by Victoria.  
Over and over, faster than the previous loop of memories.  
"I ruined their lives. Haven't ever been able to keep them safe. They're better off without me."  
Stiles can feel it, the bone deep regret, guilt, and sorrow coming from Derek.  
"But it's all worth it, don't you see? It's so worth all this danger to have the bond of a pack. You were lonely Derek, lonely and desperate for a family and no one blames you. Maybe in the beginning some did, but you were trying your best. Everyone forgives you, and would never make it if they knew you didn't want to come back."  
Stiles tried desperately to get Derek to understand but knew he didn't believe him. It was going to take something huge to get it through his thick skull. Stiles knew just what it was going to have to be and took a deep breath before standing directly in front of Derek.  
"I may be human, and can't feel the bond of family as well as werewolves, but I know what its like to lose your family. I know how it feels to be alone and so deeply sad that it hurts to breathe and all you want to do is shut yourself away from the world."  
Out of the corner of his eye Stiles saw an all too familiar hospital room, with a woman laying on its bed, but forced himself to stare at Derek while he spoke. "I know what its like to kill your family."  
He could hear the sounds of his fathers drunken sobbing, which was constant for months after her death. Derek was staring, eyes wide at Stiles' most painful memories.  
"You may be fire, but I am wolfsbane. I poison everyone just by existing. But the point is," Stiles continued after a second of silence, wiping the tears from his eyes, "I haven't been whole since then. Until you brought all of us together."  
Looking now, Stiles could see everyone smiling, laughing about nothing. Whole. Safe.  
"We were all broken, Derek. You brought us together. You made something beautiful, can't you see that? You made us a family."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stiles sees a memory of Derek and Kate entering a SUV, presumably to do sexual things. He can sense the emotions of arousal, pleasure, and excitement. Nothing explicit.  
> Comments and kudos welcome!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we go! As promised.  
> Not really any warnings here, just some happiness. And heartbreak.

It was amazing to see Derek believe. Stiles could feel the tension ease, the weight of guilt lifted just enough for more memories to come flooding through. Stiles wasn't exactly sure how his memories were being seen here, (is this something Deaton would have warned against?), but he really didn't care because of the effect they were having on Derek. He truly never thought he was doing a good job. So Stiles showed him.   
Everyone running around in the woods, smiling and laughing. Movie nights with people fighting over the perfect seats and what they should watch, popcorn flying through the air.  
At school, Erica transforming into something beautifully confident.   
Boyd and Issac slowly emerging from their shells and joining in.  
Jackson joining them at lunch, as opposed to where he usually sat with the other popular people. Scott admitting that he was learning from Derek and saying that he was not that bad.   
Allison, standing up to her family about Derek being good and owning it.  
Lydia flourishing now that she was unafraid to be who she truly is, terrifyingly smarter than them all. Stiles even shared the feeling of immense happiness he felt whenever they were all together.   
He could see Derek's response, memories of looking at everyone with pride, being happy, dare Stiles say content with his pack around him. The landscape inside Derek's mind had turned into something full of light and warmth of a bond.   
Which was why Stiles was so utterly shocked when everything went black.   
"Derek? Derek?!" Stiles yelled desperately, stumbling as he looked around. Trying to keep calm, Stiles felt around for any bit of warmth from a moment ago, but only felt cold darkness. A pained cry had Stiles jerking around to see Derek on his knees in front of an illuminated Laura.   
"I wanted to be a doctor, Derek! I wanted to help people, save them! But now I can't, because of you, yet again!" She screamed maliciously, "I could forgive you for running my life the first time, cause you were just a stupid kid and it's my duty as an older sister not to hate you for getting our entire family killed. But then what? You have to go and send me on a wild goose chase that ends up getting me killed! And you can't even avenge me properly, Peter is back and you still don't have a clue what to do with him!"   
This horrific onslaught of verbal torture continued, Derek taking in every word as if he deserved it.   
Stiles was so confused and horrified that he couldn't even move, not to stop the abuse, not to scream, anything.   
This couldn't be Laura, the creature shrieking was to vengeful to be the woman Stiles had seen before. Never before had one of the visions taken notice of either of them, ever spoken directly to them. Attempting to stay logical, Stiles knew this couldn't be a true memory. Laura wouldn't treat Derek like this, even after death. So it must be the curse, taking back control as it felt Derek slipping away. Stiles had to make the torture stop, he could feel Derek's happiness being drained away, buried under the guilt and blame of what she was screaming. Stiles desperately clung to it, digging in his heels and refusing to let it disappear.   
"She isn't real!" Stiles finally found his voice, and ran to where Derek was on his knees at her feet. "Derek, she isn't real, you know Laura would never say this to you. It's the curse, it wants to keep you here, don't listen to it!"  
Without thinking, Stiles locked eyes with the monster and was seized with a piercing fear; had he just condemned them both by taking part?   
"Ah, Stiles," it sneered, "poor, poor human Stiles. Always the one left out of doing anything important because you're too weak, but then tasked with going into a feral alphas mind."  
"You're not feral," Stiles spoke directly to Derek, unable to continue looking at her, "You are a good alpha."  
"Exactly the person Derek wanted to see right now," it continued as if he hasn't spoken, "The subject of so many fantasies at the mercy of his mind. Such fun things we could do, already planned out. We could make him beg, you and I."  
Stiles ignored her even as he burned with curiosity, "Would your family really blame you? Do you truly believe that?"   
With some digging around in Derek's memory, Stiles pulled out a still of people he didn't recognize, all open and smiling at them. "They love you, Derek. Nothing would ever change that."  
Derek whimpered at the sight, clutching his head as a tear feel down his cheek.  
"Can you be sure though? After all, they did lose their lives because of you. Those children never got to grow up, some never even saw their first day of school." It hissed as it began circling them.  
Stiles could feel the impact the words had on Derek, forcing him even deeper into a pit of despair.   
Getting Derek to believe that he wasn't at fault wasn't going to be enough, Stiles realized, because anything he said was only going to be knocked down by the curse. They would have to destroy it once and for all, which meant finding what it's anchor was.   
Stiles only had to cast around mentally for a second before he settled on it. Guilt. That was what it was using to kill Derek.  
Dropping to his knees in front of him, Stiles refused to acknowledge the monster. "This is the curse talking. Its going to keep you here forever by burying you in guilt unless we break it."   
"I can't. I can't," Derek repeated, shaking his head.  
Putting both hands on his shoulders, Stiles replied, "You can. You're better than this, you deserve to live. You need to let the guilt go."  
There was a roaring, indicating that Stiles had hit the correct nerve.  
"How? I- I cant do it. I don't. I'm not strong enough."  
"You need to forgive yourself."  
Derek began shaking, his raging storm eyes locked on Stiles'.   
"You were a child manipulated by a psycho bitch. You were a little brother looking out for his sister. You could have joined Peter and began killing everyone, but you refused. You were never taught to be an alpha yet didn't hesitated in accepting the responsibility. You could have bitten anybody, there were tons of other people that would have made a better pack, but you choose the people who needed a second chance. You saved them. You saved me. And now it's time to save yourself."   
Derek's breathing was labored, hands shaky as he lowered them to Stiles' hips, " I'm scared." He admitted, "What if I can't do it?"  
Stiles placed a hand on Derek's cheek, leaning in to touch their foreheads together and closing his eyes, "I'll stay here until you can. I trust you, you trust me. I need you to survive, which is why I'm not letting you go."   
"Such a touching moment," the monster mocked, sounding close enough to be whispering in their ears, "Too bad it's not enough, he'll never leave."  
Stiles could feel Derek take a deep breath, filling his lungs with Stiles' scent, and the black lifted. Like shedding skin after skin the tension was lifted, the black receding and turning into a bright blue. Stiles felt like he was floating in water, no longer on his knees, but still in Derek's embrace. Looking up he saw what appeared to be the surface of a pool, the one from the gym. With a smile Stiles tucked his face into Derek's neck feeling so free, so happy for the first time since this whole thing began that he let his ecstatic mood envelop them both. He was going home with Derek. Derek was safe. They were free.  
Stiles felt a cold hand grip his ankle, yanking him down. Stiles lost his grip on Derek's neck and was pulled down till he was wrapped around his waist. Derek was desperately trying to pull him back up, but the hand was too strong. Looking down, Stiles saw the distorted face of his mother. Panicking, Stiles kicked his feet around, trying to force her off while climbing upward. Seeing Derek staring down at him with alarm in his eyes Stiles saw the surface was getting further away. They were getting dragged back down.   
He was dragging Derek back down. No, no, he couldn't force Derek back there. To relive everything once more.  
Without hesitating another second, Stiles pushed Derek away from him.  
The last thing he saw was Derek breaking the surface before he was engulfed in cold black hands.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise cliffhanger! Boom.  
> Please leave a comment!!! They help tons!!!! :)


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning; mention of past thoughts of suicide. Will be put in tags and extra info in end notes.  
> Final chapter!   
> Hope you all enjoyed it!!

Waking up was like being plunged into a bathtub of ice water. Every sense was heightened; he could smell the antiseptic of Deaton's surgical room, feel his too tight clothing, and could taste burning wax with each painful breath. Derek could hear Deaton giving him instructions to remain calm so his body would stop overcompensating for his awakening and fought against his instincts to shift.  
Opening his eyes and sitting up on his forearms, Derek found the room was lit only with candles, shadows jumping on the walls, and his own casting Stiles in darkness.  
"Why isn't he waking up?" Derek growled after staring for a second.  
"Something happened, right before you woke," Deaton said, "You were both showing signs of waking but then Mr. Stilinski stopped. What happened?"  
"It pulled him back down. Can you wake him up?" Derek demanded, feeling ill at the lack of life on Stiles' face.  
Deaton didn't answer, instead flipping pages back and forth in a book on the table. "Nothing is said of the cursed returning without the retriever, it only speaks of the opposite."  
He abandoned the book, coming to shine a flashlight in Stiles' eyes. "He's unresponsive. The same as you were."   
He suddenly pulled up a shirt Derek recognized as his own, revealing Stiles' mole dotted chest.  
"There," Deaton said, pointing at something glimmering.  
"What the hell is that?"  
Deaton leaned backwards against the wall, "It appears the curse has transferred itself to him. It-- I've never seen anything like this before. It shouldn't be possible."  
"Stiles! Wake up!" Derek commanded roughly, leaning in to shake him by the shoulders.  
"That may work," Deaton said, examining Stiles' chest again, "There's only two markers effecting him, as it was custom tailored to fit you it's things you both share. Keep talking to him. You may be the only one who can wake him up." Deaton rose quickly and began flipping through the book again.  
"Stiles you have to wake up! You can't go on and on about us being a family and then get stuck down there, that's not the way this works! You wanted me back, I'm here, so get your ass up!"  
"It's guilt. Guilt and suffering that he's held with, like you were. Try talking about the similar things he told you to get you out." As if realizing who he was talking to, Deaton quickly said, "I'll give you both some space." and left the room.  
Derek was so desperate to save Stiles he didn't even think as words began pouring out of his mouth. "What happened to your mother wasn't your fault, Stiles. Anymore than you said my family's was mine. You can't leave this family either, you're irreplaceable."  
Stiles' heartbeat remained the same slow beat.   
Dropping down, Derek covered Stiles and dipped down so his lips were at Stiles' ear, "You are pack and always have been. You belong here. Without your jokes and plans this pack would be nothing. You protect everyone and help them without being asked, you've saved me more times than I can count. I can't do this without you. I need you, Stiles, please."  
On a desperate whim, Derek pressed his lips against Stiles'.  
For a disheartening second there was no reaction, and Derek felt something inside of him break, causing tears to burn his eyes. Then Stiles' heartbeat skyrocketed. Derek jerked backwards to stare at the boy who was gasping for breath, eyes wide and clawing at Derek's arms.  
"It's okay, it's okay, shhh." Derek soothed, scooting over to awkwardly wrap Stiles in his arms and holding him against his chest.  
"I got you," he promised, lips pressed against Stiles' hair.  
Stiles responded by twisting around so he could burrow his face in Derek's throat and started sobbing.

 

 

There was too much going on to focus on one thing.  
To his left Scott was getting bit by Peter.  
To his right Lydia was getting mauled.  
Erica and Boyd were getting tortured directly behind him.  
His father was in front of him, repeating everything he had said at Lydia party.  
In the distance there was the screams of the mechanic who had been slowly crushed to death by Stiles' car.  
Derek, dying of a wolfsbane bullet, begging him to cut his arm off.  
Allison shooting Erica and Boyd repeatedly with arrows.  
His father taking a bullet and dying.  
Gerard smiling cruelly, ready to beat Stiles again.  
Kate electrocuting Derek, Scott, Derek, Scott.  
There was only unending screams and the laughter of Gerard and Kate.  
Stiles fought against the impending sense of responsibility, knowing it was just the curse, a hallucination. Nothing was real. Even as his father blamed him for everything he had ever feared.  
Stiles didn't once regret his choice to save Derek by giving himself up, but he really wished Deaton would hurry up and find a way to pull him out. One could only take so much of this. How long had it been since Derek got out anyway? Hours? Days? Stiles had no idea and tried desperately to remain hopeful that he wouldn't be here forever. He fought to keep his breathing even, not even wanting to consider having a panic attack while here, which was a major possibility.  
It got infinitely more difficult when his mother joined the picture.  
She wasn't in the hospital bed. She wasn't sick at all, as far as Stiles could tell. Her hair was all there, face full and eyes as bright as Stiles remembers.  
"My little boy," she said fondly, not taking notice of the sheriff, "look at all the damage you've caused."  
Stiles immediately put his fingers in his ears, he could deal with the screams of his friends and family, but his mothers sweet and loving voice? No way. Unfortunately it only muffled the screams, her voice still rang loud and clear.  
"Why must you lie to yourself, Stiles? You caused all of this," she gestured to everything around them, "If you had just killed yourself the first time you thought about it, all of this could have been avoided. You were so selfish with your own life that all this pain and suffering had to happen because of it. Scott was bitten because of you. Because you wanted to prove to your father that you were capable of more than killing me. What's the body count up to now? Twelve? How many more people are going to die because of you, Stiles?"  
He was shaking, shaking and crying and about to puke. He knew everything she said was lies, but godamn it, that hurt. All Stiles wanted to do was scream at her, saying that no, it wasn't his fault. There were things out of anyone's control.  
Kate wasn't his fault.   
Peter wasn't his fault.   
Gerard wasn't his fault.   
Matt wasn't his fault.  
Even as he mentally made the list, Stiles knew exactly what she was trying to get him to admit. The one thing he couldn't deny it being because of him.  
Stiles held his ground though, trying to block her out but having little success. Everything she said dug under his skin like little hooks, tearing him open and making him bleed. When she brought up Derek it was like rubbing salt into the wounds.  
"I think its really cute, you thinking that he could ever love you. Despite all the people who throw themselves at him, people so much more stable than you, you hope he'll pick you. You're nothing but a childish tag along, why else do you think everyone just puts up with you? They all use you as a nurse whenever they want and you are always so happy to help, wanting to be included. He knows," she nodded as if relaying bad news, "he's known all this time about your little crush. Why do you think its so easy for him to play you? All he has to do is flash his abs and you'll do anything. Which is understandable behavior, really, after all the bullied grow up to be bullies themselves."  
Suddenly Stiles burned with hatred, cutting through the thick fog of depression that he hadn't realized had settled on him. Derek was nothing like Kate.  
In the eye of the storm, Stiles caught the tail end of a rant, "-me back, I'm here, so get your ass up!" With a triumphant sigh, Stiles focused on Derek's voice and allowed it to pull him away from the screams, guiding him to safety.  
"What happened to your mother was not your fault, Stiles. Anymore than you said my family's was mine. You can't leave this family either, you're irreplaceable." Derek said, echoing like he was in a tunnel.  
Stiles knew he was getting closer, the screams were fainter but he still felt the fear and dread weighing him down like weights tied to his feet. Peering down was a mistake, Stiles instantly knew.  
Decapitated heads were chained to his feet. His dad, Scott, Derek, Lydia, Issac, Erica, Boyd, Jackson, Danny, and even Deaton were all swinging under him, the chain going right through their temples.  
Trying desperately to climb toward Derek's voice, Stiles felt hot tears burning his cheeks. Its not real, he chanted to himself, not real, not real.  
Suddenly there was a steel hand wrapping around his throat, cutting off his oxygen. Stiles struggled violently, clawing at the hand and staring into the blood red eyes of his mother-- no, of the monster inhabiting his mothers body.  
With his lungs beginning to burn, Stiles' only thought was what would happen if he died here. Could that even happen? Would his body stay in the coma like state forever or would his heart simply stop beating when he finally died? Would bruises surface on his skin, telling everyone how he met his end?  
Stiles dropped his hands, no longer bothering to try and fight it off. Using the few seconds of consciousness he had left, Stiles focused on Derek's words. "--an't do this without you. I need you, Stiles, please."  
Then there was a pressure against his lips and as if breathing the breath of life back into his body, the hand melted away and Stiles gasped for air. He was no longer in the darkness, instead on the floor of Deaton's, staring up at Derek.  
Gasping uncontrollably, Stiles did nothing as Derek moved around to pull Stiles against him, murmuring something softly.  
To Stiles, it was too much. He was exhausted, physically and emotionally, all he wanted to do was make sure the people he loved were all right and maybe sleep for a couple days. But with Derek kissing his head assuring him without words that he was not going anywhere, Stiles allowed himself to break down.   
Tucking himself even closer to Derek, Stiles let the tears fall.

 

As expected, the pack went ape shit crazy when they returned.  
A lot of it was a blur to Stiles, who was laid out on the couch and suffering from what Deaton diagnosed as exhaustion and dehydration. There were loud noises and hugs, Stiles knew that for certain, himself included in multiple ones.  
What felt like hours later, Scott took Stiles home, spewing some crack shot story to his dad about a virus going around at school. It took him three whole days to recover, drinking gallons of water and sleeping 15+ hours each day.   
Each time he woke up he swore there was someone new in bed with him, most of the time it was Scott, but Stiles knew he wasn't hallucinating when he'd see Erica's hair, or Issac snuggled up against him, or even Jackson sitting at the edge of the bed. They were keeping guard over him, he realized with a smile before falling back asleep.  
The downside to sleeping a lot? Nightmares. And with a whole heaping load of new horrifying experiences, there was always something new. Most of the time whoever was there with him woke him up, but that didn't mean that the images would disappear.  
Currently, he was dreaming of the Hale fire. Except this time he wasn't sitting idly by, he was fighting to get them out. Running from room to room, grabbing anyone and everyone he found and shouting at them to get out, choking his way through the smoke, but he knew he wouldn't be able to get them all out. The hallways were endless, doors upon doors on each side, kids Stiles knew he couldn't save.  
When Stiles finally woke, he was sweating profusely. As far as he could tell there was nothing to have woken him, there was no one else in bed with him, so he assumed Scott was either spending time with his mom or it was the rare time in between shifts for everyone that he got to be alone.  
Taking deep breaths and leaning back against his headboard, he fought the urge to cough dream smoke from his lungs. Peering through the darkness of his room, Stiles saw an outline that made his eyes go wide and heart start pounding, "Dude. You can't do that. How many times I gotta tell you that its creepy?"  
Derek didn't answer, instead being revealed by the light that Stiles turned on by his bed.  
"You've been having my nightmares."  
Stiles swallowed, ducking his head to scratch his neck, "Yeah well, you know what they say; occupational hazard."  
Things were silent, but not as awkwardly quiet as it would have been before all of this had happened. As much as Stiles wanted to break the silence he couldn't think of anything to say. After all, where did they stand? They had both seen the deepest, darkest parts of each other, and saved one another in a way much more dangerous than anything before. Not to mention what Stiles had heard, and quite possibly revealed himself.  
"I wanted to thank you," Derek said roughly, coming to stand at the foot of the bed.  
"Hey, no problem. No trouble at all," Stiles lied, "was a piece of cake."  
"I don't just mean for getting me out of there," Derek continued, staring at Stiles, "I mean for helping me . . . let go. Forgive myself."  
Stiles was stunned silent for a second, then replied honestly, "You did the same thing for me."  
Neither of them spoke as Derek gently lowered himself to sit beside Stiles on the bed. "Scott joined us. In case you had any ideas otherwise about being pack. You are, officially now."  
"That's awesome," Stiles smiled widely, "See, I told you he was coming around."  
Derek suddenly looked like he was struggling with words, and frustrated with himself because of it.  
"What is it?" Stiles asked, nudging him with his knee.  
"You know I'd die for you."  
"Like you would everyone else," Stiles tried to say yet it came out more like a question.  
"No, Stiles," Derek stared at him, "you know its different with you."  
"That's not fair, man," Stiles shook his head, a frown on his face and his hands tangled in his lap, "I was in your head. What happened there . . . Its not fair for me to make assumptions."  
"Its not an assumption when its the truth," Derek said softly.  
Their lips met slowly, no rush, no urgency. It wasn't chaste by any means, there was too much riding behind it to be that simple.  
When they finally parted, Stiles sighed, "Me too. I - I'd do the same."  
Eventually they ended up sprawled out on Stiles' bed, exploring lightly with their hands while their mouths continued to give and take from each other. Derek ended the kiss by burrowing his head in Stiles' neck, breathing him in.  
"Please stay," Stiles whispered, voice hoarse from lack of use, "just--just to sleep."  
Derek's answer was kicking off his shoes without moving. Stiles smiled, running his hand through Derek's hair and breathing deeply.  
They were together. They were safe. They had a family once again.  
It was the best night of sleep either of them had had in years.  
(By morning the queen bed was close to collapsing under the weight of the entire pack who had decided to join them.)  
(And it was glorious.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The monster tells Stiles he should have killed himself when he first thought about it.
> 
> Nothing too triggering, I hope.
> 
> Well, here it is. The last firework. I really hope everyone liked it, and thank you all for leaving kudos and comments! You have no idea how many times I've gone back just to read them over again, they really give me a sense of pride.  
> Please comment, tell me what you think about these two.   
> Thanks again!

**Author's Note:**

> Holy shit. This is terrifying. You guys like?  
> Comments and kudos welcome!


End file.
